Control
by monkey-in-hell
Summary: Post series one one-shot. Alex / Gene.


A/N I haven't written anything for months so apologies in advance. Oh, and I have absolutely no idea where this story suddenly came from.

Control

Sitting at the far end of the bar gave her a very different view of Luigi's and its customers than her normal seat offered. Next to, and behind, her sat the more sedate diners - the ones Luigi might have possibly preferred to fill his establishment with. They were the ones who paid their bills after a quiet evening of good food, gentle conversation and soft, but dull, music. However down the other end, right where she usually found herself sat pretty much every night since she'd arrived here, the usual suspects had descended once more and were embracing their regular activities with high spirits: drinking far too much, bantering loudly with each other, laughing at Chris' awful jokes and, she felt sure, there'd be tuneless singing at some point to come, possibly just when Luigi wanted to close up for the night. From the corner of one eye she could see the proprietor offer an apologetic smile to one of his more reserved customers and she smiled briefly in sympathy with the Italian, his routine as well trodden as CID's. And as ingrained as her own had become.

She sipped from her glass, her eyes dropping to the red liquid thoughtfully. She'd quietly resigned herself to these nights, to whiling away the hours between work and sleep in a trattoria, because she simply didn't know what else to do. She didn't know what else she was supposed to do. There'd been a few times in her life - when her parents had died, when her ex husband had deserted her and their daughter, when she'd first arrived in this fake world - when she'd felt at a complete loss and at those times she'd resorted to carrying on as best as she could until she could figure out how to deal with whatever curveball had been thrown at her. It was a method she'd been employing for some time now; since she'd failed to save her parents, since she'd failed to get home, since she'd realised that she had precious little control over this world - but she had yet to figure out how to deal with any or all of those events. There were no immediate answers, there had been no moment of inspiration; she was stuck in a world that was content to carry on as it pleased in spite of her existence in it.

Sighing softly she let that thought dissolve into her glass once again - a coping mechanism that had served her well during the last few months - and her gaze wandered back towards her team, knowing she would soon join them once more. She looked up just in time to see Shaz heading in her direction, the sound of Chris calling uselessly out to the younger woman above the roar of laughter that the rest of CID was supplying accompanying the woman's approach. Alex offered her young friend a warm smile as Shaz took a seat next to her, placed her own glass roughly down onto the bar and frowned viciously. Oh dear, love's young dream was experiencing another bump and she was going to have to play agony aunt once again. Unfazed by the turn of events she drew her attention to Shaz, grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts even if it came in the shape of someone else's love life. And it wasn't really a hardship as such; she liked Shaz a great deal though the young woman made it ridiculously easy to do so. In a way she felt responsible for her, too; Gene, Ray, Chris - they were all Sam's creations but Shaz was a product of her own imagination. At least, she'd always presumed the younger woman was her own creation; she'd also presumed, incorrectly as it had turned out, that she could find her way home by changing her past.

"I can't believe he's going," Shaz stated firmly, turning her head towards Alex but not looking at her directly. The movement was really to avoid the longing glances coming from the other side of the room with enough obviousness for a certain DC to pick up on.

"Can't believe he's going where?" Alex asked, the 'he' patently obvious.

"A strip club!"

Alex tutted her agreement to Shaz's indignation, though her disapproval went further than that. She guessed that if Chris was going to a strip club then so were the rest of them - Gene included. The thought of him going to somewhere like that didn't really come as a surprise; in fact, she should have guessed that something like this would happen because today was Ray's birthday and a strip club was right up Ray's alley. It wouldn't take much for the Sergeant to persuade the others. A bit late in the day she finally worked out what all the whispering and sniggering back at the station had been about. What did come as more of a surprise to her though was the pang of jealousy that had hit her at the thought of Gene watching scantily clad young women slowly shedding what little clothes they were wearing for his enjoyment. She tried hurriedly to attribute her reaction to simply having had too much to drink - it was what she usually blamed whenever she started to think about him in anything more than a platonic manner - but a quick glance at the bottle of wine sat on the bar next to her glass confirmed that, with only two glassfuls missing, she was relatively sober.

And it went deeper than just jealousy; the thought of not having his company for the rest of the night left her with what felt like a gaping hole in her chest. Her evenings might have become predictable, something she'd merely resigned herself to, but she had come to enjoy her nights with Gene Hunt; the putting the world to rights, the easy flirting, the way his eyes would sparkle and his mouth would turn up, altering his entire face in the process, when he smiled. He was different, and yet somehow the same, away from the office and she liked the subtle change, the more relaxed atmosphere. She liked some parts of her routine more than others and now it was being threatened.

Shaz shook her head, her mouth turning further down. "I mean it's demeaning, isn't it?"

"Yes," Alex agreed, somewhat distractedly, her thoughts still on Gene and the stirring feelings in her belly. She had no claims over Gene, he was as much a free agent as she was so she couldn't stop him from leaving. The most they'd ever had was one rather pleasant evening together which would qualify as a date but nothing more than that. She'd turned down his offer of more that night; at the time she'd had bigger things than Gene Hunt on her mind and she hadn't expected to still be around to have to face the consequences of that decision. He'd never asked her out again after her parents had died. To be fair, during those first few weeks after the bombing, if he had ventured down that road again she still would have rebuffed him. Her pain had been too raw to let her think of anyone but her daughter; her determination too strong to do anything other than try to work out a way to get back to her. But he hadn't asked. It struck her then that, as the weeks had turned into months and her chances of going home had seemed to diminish by the day, for all of their flirting, for all of their growing closeness, neither had she.

Shaz was still grumbling about the degrading nature of strip clubs and Alex made the appropriate murmurs of agreement when necessary but her mind had only one person in it. She turned slightly in her seat, appearing to give Shaz more of her attention but her gaze strayed subtlety over the woman's shoulder to stare at the man now occupying her thoughts. He was, along with the others, laughing at something Ray was saying, possibly at Chris' expense because the younger man was the only one not joining in. She gave his surroundings no further thought and let her gaze stroll leisurely over Gene. There was that smile of course, briefly lighting up his face, and she lingered there for as long as it lasted before her eyes wandered further down. With his tie long since abandoned, and his shirt unbuttoned further than usual, she had a good view of his throat and the way his adam's apple bobbed deliciously under his skin as he spoke, certain that the lighting in Luigi's had been set up just to accentuate every movement Gene made. She couldn't deny it any longer and she was struggling to remember why she had for all this time: he was absolutely gorgeous.

It had been there a while, her attraction to him, she was certain of that. It had definitely been there, in some shape or form, when they'd went out on that date. She'd just been ignoring it because there'd been no point in exploring it further: she hadn't been intending on staying in this world and he was a distraction that she couldn't risk. But now... Now she had begun to accept that she wasn't going anywhere at all. So, if she wasn't leaving after all, and he was so damn alluring, there seemed little point in fighting it any longer. Her heart fluttered in her chest at her decision, her mouth curving upwards slightly; her moment of inspiration finally striking her, and with some force, to show her that the answer had been right there in front of her all along. She couldn't go home, she couldn't be with her daughter and she couldn't stop this world from turning but she did have some control; she didn't have to be unhappy and she didn't have to be alone.

Alex quickly averted her eyes as Chris suddenly stood up and, with a flurry of words to his colleagues, made his way over to Shaz. He barely had chance to open his mouth before the other woman practically leapt from her stool and stormed her way towards the exit, leaving the DC staring helplessly at Alex in her wake, his mouth still hanging open.

"Go after her," Alex encouraged, hiding the smile that had emerged at their antics and speaking loudly enough to be heard over the roar of laughter that was still emanating from their colleagues' direction. She felt sorry for the young man, stuck somewhere between wanting the guys' acceptance and wanting to please Shaz.

She quietly watched Chris follow her advice and disappear up the stairs to chase after his girlfriend, her smile fading slightly as she wondered how to begin her own pursuit. A frown swiftly made its way to her mouth the second she returned her gaze to the others and found them standing up, finishing off their drinks and preparing to leave. A wave of panic washed over her, swiftly followed by disappointment. She couldn't let him go, not now.

"Night Ma'am," Ray offered with a wide smile as he led the procession past her and out of Luigi's.

She ignored the Sergeant's cheery nature; he was obviously trying to wind her up and she wasn't going to bite. Instead she smiled pleasantly at each of the team as they walked by until it was Gene's turn. The last to make his way towards her, her heart actually skipped a beat when he slowed down his pace as he closed in on her. Her smile, and her resolution, faded just a little as he gave her a quick smile and muttered a brief goodbye too.

"You're going too?" she asked, swivelling in her seat to face him and trying desperately to sound as casual as she could whilst every cell in her body screamed at her to do something more productive. Anything. Just as long as he stayed.

"Spare me the lecture, Bols," Gene sighed, coming to a halt then taking a small step backwards to face her. "Just this once."

"No," she denied quickly, desperate for him to stay exactly where he was. She'd just assumed that he was still interested in her, that he still sat with her night after night rather than someone else, for the same reasons she did but, and an earlier thought came back to haunt her, he hadn't ever asked her out again. "No lecture. I just.. I thought you might prefer to stay for another drink?"

Gene sighed almost inaudibly, a pout gracing his lips as he studied her closely. His eyes wandered slowly down the length of her body, taking in her low cut blouse and the way her skirt had ridden up to reveal more of her long legs and her stockings, and back up again before he replied. "Actually Bols, I'd really prefer to watch you take off all your clothes."

His knee weakening blue eyes were staring intently into hers and she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. Leering comments now and then were par for the course with Gene and normally she'd ignore them but there was something in his gaze, or maybe it was something to do with the fact that she had just recently come to realise that she wanted him, that made her think he was being honest with her. There was one way to find out and she ignored the little niggling voice that begged her to think about what she was about to agree to. "That could be arranged."

From her right Ray shouted an irritated request across the restaurant for Gene to hurry up. Neither herself nor Gene broke eye contact at the interruption; it was his turn to weigh up her sincerity, to contemplate the inference that the evening wouldn't end there, and she wanted to make it as clear as possible for him. Her heart started to pound loudly in her chest in anticipation as the seconds ticked by and the general hum of the restaurant dwindled as she focussed entirely upon him and his response. Quietly confident, if the intensity of his gaze was anything to go by, she realised that she didn't have a clue what she'd do if he did say 'yes please' - her cv didn't extend to 'stripper'.

"You go on without me, Ray," Gene hollered, his eyes never leaving hers.

* * *

She heard the door to her flat shut behind her, the firm slam just about audible over the hammering of her heart against her ribcage. She let out a long breath, willing her heartbeat to slow, her nerves to settle. There might have been a brief moment downstairs in the restaurant when she'd thought that Gene was no longer interested but that had long since passed. He was still very much interested - something he'd made quite clear as they'd walked up to her flat, his lustful voice nuzzling her all the way and making her wonder why she had hesitated for so long. Coming to a stop in her kitchen she slid the bottle of wine - the one she'd grabbed hold of downstairs as, intoxicated by his response rather than the wine itself, she'd invited Gene upstairs - onto the counter, knowing it would remain untouched. Neither of them had come here to drink.

From behind, two hands came to rest lightly on her hips and she shivered at the contact, his hands warm enough to be felt through the fabric of her skirt. At least she had some appropriate attire on to take off. Jeans would have been much harder to work with. She smiled to herself at that thought: she was actually going to strip for him. Shaz might have made a good argument against women stripping, and there was a number of feminists who would agree, but this was different. She was an adult, she was within the privacy of her own home, no money was changing hands and she was with a man she wanted. It wasn't demeaning at all.

"Bolly..." Gene whispered against the side of her neck, his breath both warm and cool as it brushed over her skin, his hands beginning to wander upwards.

Stepping forward she gracefully escaped his grasp, and the addictive pull of his touch, turning on one heel to face him with a smile but shaking her head in disapproval. With the bright kitchen light to illuminate them she could see him clearly, every beautiful inch of him. And also the disappointment in his face at her escape from his hold. She'd realised on the way upstairs that she needn't go through with this at all; she could just drag him into her bedroom and he probably wouldn't complain too much. Staring at him now she knew she wouldn't complain too much either but the thought of making him wait that bit longer, teasing him that bit further, perhaps exerting her newly-found control that bit further, persuaded her otherwise. And she had promised him, after all.

"There's one very important rule, Gene," she said softly.

"What's that?"

"No touching," she elucidated and then, because this was going to be entirely on her terms, added on, "Me or yourself."

Gene narrowed his eyes at her, weighing up her demands for a moment before finally agreeing, "Okay."

She was still smiling at his answer as she turned her back on him and entered the living room, deciding to switch on a lamp for a more forgiving atmosphere. Crossing the room she switched on the radio, searching the airwaves for something that might pass as suitable. The floor was relatively clear, the table having been moved across to one side a few days previously for a project she'd been working on, though there wasn't really much space to begin with. The flat was tiny on the whole but this was the biggest space available. It would have to do - it wasn't as if she was going to attempt anything too vigourous. Not a natural dancer she'd have to forgo any elaborate moves and basically remove her clothes in front of him. Slowly. After that she wouldn't need much space at all.

"Where exactly do you want me, Bolly?"

Now there was a question she could - finally - answer and many times over. Leaving the radio on the first station that hadn't made her wrinkle her nose in disgust at its choice of music she turned back to Gene. Standing confidently on the threshold of the living room, a wisp of a smile on his lips, she thought about rescinding her earlier decision to prolong the inevitable and answer his question with 'right there'. Instead she intimated that he should sit down on the sofa, a direction he obeyed but only after he'd removed his jacket and laid it across the back of the seat.

She watched him lower himself onto the centre of her sofa, vaguely aware of how much his compliance was starting to affect her. Gene Hunt, her superior officer, the man who never did anything other than what he wanted, when he wanted, was now under her control. She'd been drifting along for so long it was exhilarating to finally take charge of her life and in the most satisfying way. Smiling, she sauntered towards him, swaying her hips in much the same manner she'd employed as he'd followed her up the stairs to her flat just minutes ago. "Are you sure you can manage to keep your hands to yourself?" she asked playfully.

Gene smiled briefly and then placed his arms along the back of the sofa, responding to her challenge. "Won't be a problem," he replied confidently.

Replying with only a smile she turned on her heels, leaving her back facing him and started to slowly untuck her blouse, swaying just a little to the music. When it was completely free she popped open the buttons before sliding the material off her shoulders and down her back. When her blouse was just below her bra strap she paused to look over her shoulder, searching out his reaction in the low light and wishing she'd turned on the overhead light so she could see him properly. He looked relatively relaxed and she let the blouse fall away from her body, catching it in one arm to manoeuvre the garment to one side. She turned around again and watched with satisfaction as his eyes dropped straight to her chest, taking in her black lacy bra and what lay within it.

When his gaze finally turned upwards, with what looked like desire stirring in his eyes, she moved on to her skirt. Reaching behind with both hands, and leaning slightly forwards at the same time, she managed to push her chest closer towards him as she unzipped her skirt. Though his eyes had dropped downwards once more she continued to watch his face, enjoying the way his gaze caressed her when his hands could not. She helped her skirt slide down her stocking clad legs, wriggling her hips as she went, and grateful once again that she was wearing suitable clothing. Maybe this had always been her intention and, having - subconsciously at least - put all the little clues together and realised what was likely to happen tonight, she'd chosen her attire appropriately. Stepping out of her skirt she knew for sure that she hadn't dressed for Ray's, or anybody else's, benefit.

"Christ, Bols..."

The rough edge to his voice sent delightful shivers through her and she smiled inwardly at the way his hands were now digging into the material of her sofa, certain that his confidence was beginning to falter. Her gaze lingered on those long fingers. They'd caught her attention before; the way he held his glass, the way he stubbed out his cigarette and she found herself wishing, as she had done on those previous occasions, that the only thing his hands were touching, the only thing they were caressing, was herself. Barely thinking further than that she drew the fingers of one hand gently down her neck, turning her hand flat onto her skin as she moved to her chest. Her eyes still on his hands she caressed her breast through the material of her bra, imagining Gene's hand in place of her own.

Moving her hand lower, her fingers leading the way, she started to caress herself intimately, eliciting a low growl from Gene in the process. Her hand stilled its movements, her gaze darting back to him to find him enjoying the act as much as she had. His eyes were all over her and, hers returning the favour, she noticed the very promising bulge in his trousers, a familiar pulse threading its way through her at the sight. She let out a long steadying breath; this was turning out to be harder than she'd thought, and not in the manner she'd expected - she wanted to jump him right there and then. Trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs she retracted her hand, determined to not be the one to give in first. Neatly kicking off her shoes, she edged slowly towards him, his gaze drifting appreciatively to her legs. She slipped one slightly shaky foot onto the sofa, right in the middle of his legs but taking care not to touch him. Gene's eyes dropped to her foot, before his gaze travelled hungrily upwards and lingered on the small exposed part of her thigh for a long moment before meeting her gaze once more.

Finally within arms' reach, rather disappointingly his arms stayed firmly in place. She started to undo the small clasps to her stockings, her audience's eyes now back on her outstretched limb. Slowly, she began to roll the material down her leg, her own gaze still on him as he watched her hands make their way past her knee and continue on down to her heel. With a flourish she whipped off the garment leaving one bare leg in view and a stocking floating through the air behind her. Repeating the action she slowly shed her other leg of its sheath, his gaze still fixed on her long legs. Letting her now bare limb slide back to the floor she waited until his eyes had returned to her own before backing away from him once more.

Reaching behind she unhooked her bra, managing to keep the material in place by swiftly reaching round for the cups, before turning her back to him and finally letting the bra fall to the ground. With her back still to him she removed the last of her underwear, bending forwards to push the items down her legs and point her arse in his direction at the same time, an action which drew another groan from him and brought a wide smile to her lips. Standing up straight she peeked over her shoulder one last time to smile innocently at him before turning around.

She almost didn't need him to physically touch her (though going by his hands which were digging into the back of her sofa with some force maybe _he_ did need to) because the way his eyes were roaming hungrily over her naked body was almost enough for her. Her skin tingled wherever his gaze hit, that burning desire at her very centre stoked by the slightest movement of those long eyelashes. She should have felt exposed but she didn't. She didn't even feel empowered. She just felt hot. Incredibly hot. Watching him watching her had turned out to be a complete turn on. But when those blue eyes eventually came to rest on her own, his appetite unsated, she knew that 'almost' just wasn't going to be good enough - for either of them. And that the moment he did touch her she was going to explode in his hands.

Wearing just her smile she stepped towards Gene, her knees meeting his and placing herself within his reach once more. His hands remained firmly in place, long fingers digging ever further into the black and white material as she slowly placed one knee alongside his on the sofa, deliberately brushing against him this time. He swallowed hard and she mirrored the action, bolts of electricity screaming through her at the slightest contact. The thought of more lingering, much closer, skin on skin, touches sent her arousal spiralling. She placed one hand on his shoulder, leaning forward in the process and giving him a closer view of her breasts, her nipples already pointing his way. Drawing her other knee onto the sofa she straddled his lap and brought her free hand upwards to mirror its partner.

"I thought you said there was no touching?" Gene said roughly, his knuckles now a bony white against the black stripes of the sofa.

"I said _you_ couldn't touch," she whispered, admiring once again the very visible effect she was having on him and then sinking down against it. Balancing herself with the help of his shoulders so she could find just the right spot she ground herself deliciously against him.

He grunted something indistinguishable in response and she stilled her movements once again, her eyes meeting his. She thought for a moment that he was going to finally give in - and despite her recent protest she needed him to - but his hands, rather frustratingly, remained where they had been since he'd sat down. She'd set the rules and he was sticking to them. Unperturbed she brought her hands to the collar of his shirt, the top button of the garment already undone and his neck exposed to her. She let her fingers slide against the skin that lay there as she sought out the next button and popped it apart, another groan from Gene his only response. She had to sit back to do so, an action that disappointed them both, but she repeated the same manoeuvre for every button, taking her time to undo each one and making sure she touched as much of his warm, smooth skin as possible as she went along. When she reached the last visible button she grabbed his shirt and gently, teasingly, pulled it out from his trousers. Parting his shirt she ran her hands up his chest, starting from his belt buckle and ending up at his broad shoulders, mapping every inch with her fingertips and making sure his nipples got plenty of attention during the expedition.

To her ever increasing frustration his hands were still firmly in place. His eyes though were now burning into hers, his desire for her plain to see. Biting her lip she let her hands make the return journey, this time reaching for the buckle on his belt and sliding out the leather strap. Undoing the buckle she wondered exactly how far he would let her go, the thought of having him there on her sofa, completely under her control, suddenly not so appealing as it had first appeared. Gene Hunt was a force of nature and she wanted to feel all of that power. She wanted to feel him.

Unbuttoning his trousers she finally got her wish as Gene suddenly pounced. She was on her back in a blur of movement, a cushion serendipitously at her head and, perhaps more deliberately yet just as happily, Gene Hunt between her thighs. Hands scrabbling at his trousers she helped him yank down his trousers and underwear just far enough, one hand straying slightly from her task to assess just how much bigger in that particular department he really was. He sucked in a breath at her touch, wresting away her hand to sink against her and giving her another chance to feel just how big he was. And how hard he was. He kissed her then, firmly and demandingly, his tongue dancing over her lips until she opened her mouth and let him in, the resulting sensation akin to pouring fuel onto the fire that was consuming her.

"Want you, Alex," he said roughly, relinquishing her mouth.

"Gene..." Lost for words she wriggled underneath him, just as desperate for him. He took advantage of her movement to slide into her, their resulting groans of approval mingling into one. Stretched exquisitely, she had little time to adjust to the sensation before he started thrusting into her, his breath against her ear. With one leg over the back of the sofa, she drew the other one around his lower back, her hands sliding under his shirt to settle further up, fingertips digging further in as she sought to meet his every thrust and edging ever closer to her peak.

He ground out her name against her ear over and over again, each syllable matching every stroke until she was almost there. "Gene, I'm... Want you to... Come with me..." She got no further as she finally exploded, absolute pleasure pouring outwards from her centre to wash over every inch of her body, catching her breath in her throat as it went, and hazing over the fact that, with one last thrust, he had followed her final command.

In her satiated aftermath she clung on to him, his heavy breaths still sounding in her ear and his weight pressing delightfully into her. A warm glow still swirled inside of her and she was sure it wasn't just post coital hormones; for the first time since she'd arrived in this world she finally felt at ease within it. As if she just might belong here, with him. And, as Gene began to stir above her, she realised that maybe she hadn't really taken control of her life tonight; if anything she'd relinquished some control by giving in to her feelings for him - but maybe control was over-rated, anyway.

Propping himself up on both elbows Gene raised himself slightly to face her, his hair flopping over his brow, and still buried inside her. "Bloody Hell, Bols," he muttered softly, echoing her own thoughts, and with the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen on his lips. Smiling widely she reached up to touch his cheek, her thumb brushing over the sideburn that lay there - something she'd wanted to do for a long time. There were so many things she'd wanted to do and she intended to see to every one of them.


End file.
